Today is My Birthday, Not June 17
is upside down and drunk
on three ounces of champagne.
The coffee table littered
with travel brochures,
Algeciras, Spain. The Gibraltar
gap to Casablanca.
I will travel alone once more,
but not on June 15 as the card
from my office says.
I will mount a canvas travel
chair on a clipper boat's deck,
a Florentine iris closed over
the empty disc of my heart.
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